


Buying Affections

by Chronomancer



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Accents, Escort Service, Jack is Finnish, Multi, Pitch is still British, Toothiana can have an Indian accent because I can do that, and then the HTTYD came out and this asshole has to make an appearence, idek if its a ship or not, not going to tag it yet, when you think about it everyone can have an accent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronomancer/pseuds/Chronomancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch Black, business tycoon extraordinaire, needs a date for this...conference he's attending. So what better than to support the local Escort Service? For better or worse, Jack was the only one available. But, perhaps this will work. Not everyone is what they seem, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Escort AU because every fandom needs one and I like to use creative license.  
> I'll tell you that Jack calls Pitch a silly man because well he is one when he's not a dick

They meet at a café many blocks away from the conference and leave from there, of course. Jack and Pitch arrive together- also of course. Jack is wearing a scrumptious little tailored 3-piece suit and the undershirt is the lightest blue Pitch has ever seen. The cuff links are _snowflakes_ , for the love of all things, and they _sparkle._ Upon just now noticing them, Pitch groans in defeat. Jack raises an eyebrow- and _how_ does he even do that- and laughs just the slightest bit darkly at the look on his client’s face.

“I _told_ you to try and look _classy._ These people-“

“-Are important, yes ,yes, I know. Have a little _fun_ , babe! The funs in the subtlety and you of all people better appreciate that, Mr. Grouch” Jack grates but pats his knee with a too-pale hand. Pitch grinds his teeth and knocks his head against the car’s window as they wait to get out. The valet is slow and incompetent and is at least five cars ahead of them.

Jack clears his throat before ticking off fingers. “Alright-y, honeybun, lemme get this right. We met at a play- _The Phantom of the Opera?“_

Pitch glares out of the tinted windows and nods his affirmation. This will not work. They’re like day and night- Jack reeks of exuberance and vitality and Pitch may or may not suck the happiness from those surrounding him not akin to a Reaper. Jack makes an unhappy sound before Pitch feels a cool finger turn his head back toward Jack’s. His escort’s eyes are serious for perhaps the first time that Pitch has seen, so he graces his companion his full attention.

“Your mother doesn’t like me because I’m just a lowly children’s author you met a few days after the play at a café and you saw me writing on my laptop. I had a few character sketches out and asked your opinion on them. We fight over who makes dinner because you’ll go the whole nine yards for supper and sometimes with our schedules we don’t have _time_ for that.”

Jack’s voice transitions from a middle-of-nowhere American accent into a lilting Finnish one, and Pitch simply stares at his partner.

“Did you ever go to Finland?

 _“ Olen syntynyt siellä, hölmö mies”_ Jack replies softly, “Relax, Tall, Dark and Handsome,  I’ve got this. This isn’t my first- how do you say- rodeo? Not even my most complicated one.”

Pitch can’t stop staring at the man’s whose company he’s paid out the ass for. How- what-when- but most importantly, _how?_ This man- as much as he’s found out from his…trusted friends, is ordinary as escorts from. No criminal record, volunteered at the local orphanage, lived in a modest apartment in a modest part of town, perfect credit. So how?

“Do you play poker?” Pitch has to ask, because that answer will either make this night entertaining or hopelessly boring. He isn’t disappointed when Jack’s eyes absolutely light up and he practically vibrates in the heated leather seats.

“I _love_ card games. My goodness, are we going to be playing?” The valet is almost to them, so Pitch wastes no time replying.

“Of course there’ll be poker. And perhaps, I should tell you that under no circumstances are they to find out you’re an escort, or that I work where I work.” Jack stills, narrowing his eyes for a moment before rolling his shoulders. He lets out a loud sigh, and pulls out a tiny notepad out of his pants pocket.

“This is one of those _conferences_ , eh? “ His accent is thicker now, and Pitch grimaces. He watches intently as the white-haired man quickly flips through the pages and makes a small sound of confirmation as he looks at it. Before Pitch can ask, he shoves it back into his pocket a second before the valet opens the door for the two.

The dusk’s air gently embraces them both, before the heat being thrown off the hotel smothers them. Jack shifts his vest as he escapes the car and grins at Pitch.

“Finally! They were slow- yes?”  Jack jokes, moving close to Pitch to gently wrap his arm around Pitch’s. The man, to his credit, doesn’t stiffen at all but turns his body to Jack’s slightly and it’s enough to amuse Jack. Pitch is at least a head if not two taller than the slighter man. Both are slender, but Pitch has a broad set of shoulders and Jack’s just enough of a waif that they complement the other.

There are enough people around them and enough cameras trying to catch a glimpse of anyone particularly important that some of the people titter at the two- how adorable, don’t they look sweet together? Wait- who is that man’s hair stylist? That hair is so not natural!

The man wasn’t helpless after all, was he?

“Shoddy service receives shoddy payment, _love_.”

Jack rolls his eyes with so much force he can feel the sting of it, but doesn’t say anything.

They enter the hotel and the chatter of men and women surround them even though they try to go straight to the elevator they are intercepted by a man and woman. The man is taller than even Pitch and is probably thicker than the two of them put together. He has a considerable white beard and underneath the cuffs of his suit there are lines of tattoo ink on his fingers. He guffaws at Pitch before Jack smartly detaches and his customer is enveloped in a frightfully tight hug. The two talk as Jack turns to the female, perfectly alright with making small conversation.

The female is richly adorned, with a long blue dress that fades to purple around the bottom. She is almost as tall as Jack but he can spot the golden heels that match the bangles and the rings. She wears a lovely necklace that has quite a lot of peacock ‘eyes’ attached to it.

“Your outfit and _those shoes_! Beautiful little pieces of art, yes!” Jack gushes, carefully keeping his hands to himself. The girls in his business constantly complain about being touched without permission so it becomes second nature to grant every woman and girl he meets a personal bubble.

But he is certainly a bit surprised when _shes_ the one to grasp his hands.

“Oh- thank you! I spent _hours_ trying to find the right shoes but since I thought no once would notice- I mean they’re _shoes_ , right?- I gave up on these. You look so handsome in that vest! I mean- if that’s the word you’re looking for but- “

Jack catches Pitch and the man both staring at the two while she talks out of the corner of his eye but pays no mind to it, nodding enthusiastically when needed but keeps his hands splayed to not make her partner feel threatened.

Pitch speaks up, moving a step closer to Jack and for a moment the escort can swear it’s a subconscious move. Hell, he’s taken classes in phycology and human behaviour at the city’s community college so he must be correct to assume, right?

“I must ask- where are you from?” He focuses back on the woman’s question, and makes himself smile ruefully before answering.

“It’s-obvious? I hope I speak clearly enough for conversation, but I am from Finland! Next to Sweden, cold, but, pretty!” He grins now at the interest in her eyes and turns to Pitch for a moment as he speaks to Jack

“Your accent is fine, love. But Nicolas, Anna, please excuse us. We’ve got to meet a few other people before the presentation begins, but we’ll-“

“- save seat for both of you!” Jack finishes, smiling brilliantly at the two as they back away. Anna waves at Jack and Nicolas simply chuckles at the two.

“So, that is the man who Mr. Moody fell for.” Nicolas states while wrapping an arm around his lover’s shoulders. Anna tilts her head to look at him and nods before giving a concerned look after the two as they make their way to the elevator.

“I hope he takes care of him, he’s a long way from home, isn’t he?”

Nicolas nods, but doesn’t ask who she was talking about being a long way from home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a packed hotel and Jack gets harassed by a group of drunk females.  
> also: character development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this because I had a similar experience- I mean, I wasn't an escort or an escort's client and I wasn't oozing with wealth but damn it was certainly a life experience.  
> It's not quite meant to be comedy but it kinda just turned out that way.  
> It's a bit short, sorry D:

As Pitch and Jack hastily make their way to the elevator, Jack quietly studies the people around him. It’s part of the job, after all- to find the mood, to adapt to it. It’s hard being an escort, despite the sleazy reputation it has. It’s a challenge to stand out in the right way, to not steal the limelight but be on the edge of it.

This party, Jack decides, is probably going to end badly. The elevator is far enough away that Jack gets a good glimpse of tense shoulders and forced laughter, of white knuckles and bared teeth. He knows humans are not animals, but sometimes, and especially at places like these, the glamour and glittering lights do nothing to hide the elephant in the room. That being, that the beauty will fade and the world is cruel. To survive amongst the stars, you can’t be afraid of a black hole.

In another life, internal thoughts like these convince Jack he was a poet once, waxing songs to pretty maidens and sirs.

But now’s not the time for monolouging, there’s an attractive man talking to you.

“What did you say?” Jack asks, a bit meekly.

Pitch mutters something underneath his breath and Jack can bet the money he’ll get from tonight that it was probably unsavory.

“I said,” Pitch seethes as he leans in to Jack’s ear “you didn’t bring any weapons with you, did you?”

Jack pauses for a moment to comprehend, and then starts cackling. Several heads turn in curiosity but it doesn’t bother him at all. Weapons? _Him?_ Pitch’s cheeks color in rare embarrassment for a second and Jack thinks it’s positively adorable.

“ _Darling_ , “ Jack exhales the word, lips stretched so tight in their smile he think it’ll form wrinkles from that alone. They finally arrive at the elevator and Pitch shoos the attendant out. His escort all but collapses next to him as they ascend, snorting to himself somewhat quietly.  For all of the hotel’s gilded glory, the lift is hellishly slow and they both groan in dismay. The simultaneous action makes Pitch _laugh_ , a miraculous sound Jack zeroes in on and commits it to memory before he realizes that he likes the sound. It’s scratchy and unused and Jack wants to make the sound happen again. So he pokes his client in the side until he finds the _spot_ and Pitch bats his hand away after making a decidedly feminine shrill.

Jack gives Pitch an amused glance before standing back up and fixes the damned vest again. Taking a deep breath, he explains “Every escort is taught by out manager the basics of self-defense. After a certain…incident with a particularly forward client, I opted to take a few Tae Kwon Do classes.”

Pitch is so obviously skeptical that now it’s Jack’s turn to flush.

“You. Martial Arts? I may believe that of Anna before you.” He simpers, humor still apparent in his tone. “But I’ll take that as a ‘no’, you aren’t carrying a weapon.” Jack actually bites his tongue to keep from making a rude remark.

_He may be attractive, but he’s quite the character, isn’t he?_

* * *

Pitch glances once more at his companion for the night before checking his phone. They have a good thirty minutes before the poker game begins at the penthouse suite, but he wants to make nice with a few certain people. Partly, because it’s good for business. Partly, because to be honest he doesn’t feel comfortable on the floor with all of those…fiends. Lastly, and most importantly to him, because the woman he divorced is going to be there and he will not leave her alone until he gets visitation rights for his precious daughter’s 14th Christmas- in a mere few weeks. He was forced to miss her 13th, and the 12th, and the 11th, but this one he will get.

Yes, definitely the priority.  

“So,” He hears the world drawn out and tenses. “These people who you’re going to play poker with, how should they view me?”

The question is so unexpected that Pitch’s neck pops as he looks at Jack.

“As my lover, what else?” Pitch is curious now at the introspective look on his escort’s face. Pitch then takes the liberty of grasping his chin and looking at him, a mirror to his escort’s movement not an hour before. There is a moment of utter silence, slowly being filled with the increase of Jack’s breathing. Pitch tries to catch his eye before asking him what exactly Jack’s used to, but the man fidgets, looking over his towering shoulder at the illuminated number above the doors. They’ve stopped at the first floor of penthouses but still have a few levels to go, and Jack moves to the side of Pitch as the doors open.

“Hold the ela-ele-elevator!”

A few giggling women pile in, alcohol reeking on their breath and clothing. One in particular, an ebony-skinned lady with a tacky tiara with 21 on it, leers at Jack. He smiles politely in reply but grips his client’s arm possessively.

“What floor?” Pitch asks, and doesn’t miss the action and lays his other hand over Jack’s. One of the females sigh and starts to pout at another, whispering in the other’s ear but does little else.

“Whatever floor you’re going to, dearies.” The leader pipes up, and raucous laughter bubbles up around them. One looks at Jack with a rather unsettling intensity and then breaks into a smile that steals both Jack and Pitch’s attention.

“You’re prettier than a flutter-by!” She gushes, but apologizes as her friends wince and touch their ears at her shrill, nasally voice.

Jack smiles truly this time, but his eyes are guarded and he squeezes Pitch’s arm. Pitch flexes and answers in place of him.

“I know- isn’t he?” He teases instead and Jack shoots him a mollified look before gently peeling off a rather bold hand tugging on his sleeve.

“No,” The same woman whines, “I was looking at your cuffs. They’re pretty. My Edmund friend makes things like that, just looking!” Pitch’s chest constricts from trying to hold back laughter but Jack nods in seriousness.

“Thank you- but my Pitch and I are on a schedule and we need to keep moving,” all but the birthday girl makes sounds of agreement and Pitch glares at her. “So, what floor are you going to?”

Tiara-girl moves through the small gaggle of them and leans towards Jack.

“It’s my birthday, did you know that?” Jack visibly tenses and Pitch decided he’s had enough of people pestering him and Jack- he’s got no time for patience and really has no interest in virtues.

“My _lover_ and I will taking leave now- we bid you a wonderful night filled with regrets and outrageously expensive cocktails. _Adieu._ ” He escapes the elevator and Jack tries to maneuver out too, barely making it through as the birthday girl grabs his arm and he wrenches it away.

The doors slide shut and they can still hear laughter as it descends. Jack sighs in dismay while tugging everything back in place.

“I really do hate 21st Birthdays, I’ll have you know.” His faux accent sounds so real in that moment it is hard to discern what he said, but when Pitch understands it he laughs so much he props a hand against the wall to keep him upright. Jack looks absolutely bewildered at his client and lets a weak chuckle out. 

_He’s a client, you’ll never meet him after this. So he’s not a bad guy- so what? Just keep it up, Jackie-boy, and then you can leave this all behind._

_  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then the HTTYD 2 trailer came out and the muse told me to suck it up and re-flesh out the entire goddamn story because oh no he's hot

When they re-take the elevator Pitch almost jams his finger with the intensity he’s pushing the penthouse floor button. Quickly checking his watch- 8:34- he turns to Jack. His escort’s posture is taller now, bringing him to his full height- almost eye level with him. For a moment he wonders why he would make himself smaller but dismisses the thought with the consolation it was probably some psychological shit the escorts knew about (and contrary to his book collection, had no interest in the minute differences in body language).

“Are you alright? You looked…if I may, a bit _spooked_ there.” He bites his lip as Jack rolls his eyes.  Pitch notices that their previous light atmosphere has dissolved, leaving both of them slightly wound up. Pitch watches Jack’s eyes bore holes into the door and mentally notes the white-haired man’s fidgeting.

“ As I was saying before we were interrupted, every escort is trained in martial arts and how to defend themselves. Besides, it’s easier to act like a sniveling, weak young man than to try present myself otherwise.” Jack sounds matter-of-fact and not at all bitter about it. He flexes his back and for a moment Pitch wonders what muscles are underneath there- rope or actual bulk? He tries to envision Jack with both, and then what weapon he would like. He brings himself out of his thoughts with a snort. Why not ask the man?

So he does: “It’s hard to imagine what a man of your stature could use, what weapon-“

“could itty bitty me use?” Jack cuts off, narrowing his eyes at the ‘stature’ comment. “I wasn’t a fan of hand-to-hand, but I don’t usually use guns because the clients get a little squeamish seeing one on me. I liked the staff- a lot Easy to defend and attack with, and it gives me space. Archery’s fun too, I’ve a friend from Scotland who’s teaching me how to hunt with one.”

This was a window to Jack, Pitch realized. With a dawning realization, he rattled his brain on how to get Jack to keep talking. They were in the elevator but hadn’t pressed any buttons, just…standing there. Apparently Jack noticed too, because he gestured to the panel and joked; “I thought we were on a time-sensitive table, weren’t we?”

“We are. But we have a good half hour until we _have_ to be there.” He admitted reluctantly, pressing the top floor. The elevator gave a wheeze and slowly started climbing again.

“So,” he drawled, “these people are not the most…conscientious, and let’s not illusion ourselves with the sliver of humanity they might possess. “ Jack merely raised an eyebrow, and Pitch cringed. Of course he’d already know that- naïve, good people didn’t buy escorts. Who were trained in martial arts and seduction.  Pitch cleared his throat before waving his hand in an attempt to dispel what he just said. “What your job is- is to distract a certain man. He’s got the corner on this new sleeping medicine-  works wonders actually- and I want him to lose as much money as you can make him.”

Jack stared at Pitch, mouth slightly open and face tilted back, eyebrows up as high as Pitch wondered they could go.

“Did you think this through? ‘Let’s buy an escort for the night, show him off and parade him around, then try to have him seduce a fellow businessman because he’s doing well and I don’t like him.” He scoffed, taking a moment to bring his hands from crossed over his chest to scrub at his eyes. He muttered something but Pitch found it indiscernible.

The client smiled brightly at Jack, bright, sharp teeth shining in the almost-blue light from the ceiling.

“Precisely. You are to be as subtle as you can, and use any excuse you need to distract him.”

“But wasn’t I supposed to be your sweet little Finnish lover?”

“You can use that as a cover for talking with Sanderson-  you’re tired of me always being gone for dinner, lonely from waking up by yourself,  me smelling like mysterious perfumes,  you’re upset I forgot our third month anniversary, whatever.” He explained gleefully, stepping across the small floor space to Jack as the elevator dinged. His hands were outstretched and twitching in his dark humor.

“Alright.” Jack’s eyes lifted his and Pitch saw distain there, disappointment, and nonchalance. The boy truly didn’t care, he thought. Of course, though he _had_ to win tonight- and the boy was doing his job, but did he have to look so disgusted at him?

“Keep that look on your face, Jackie boy.” His whispered as he pulled Jack by the waist into the hallway, grip on his escorts wrist a shade too tight, too constricting-

“You have me until midnight, don’t forget _that_ little ‘time table’ he responded suddenly, a sharp smirk etching on his face. “Midnight. Like Cinderella. Clock hits midnight and you touch me or boss me around? ” He patted the inside of his jacket. “I have a good friend who collects teeth. Always wanted to be an orthodontist, but didn’t have the money.” His voice was soft, barely making it to his client’s ears before fading off.

They turned right at a fork in the hallway and both smiled at a younger couple passing them. A few feet after they passed, the boy called behind him.

“Pitch!” The named turned around, now holding Jack’s waist hard enough that he pulled away from the grip. The speaker was a young boy, dark brown hair messy with green eyes peeking out. Freckles dotted his cheeks under the yellow lights, capturing Jack’s attention for a second.  Narrowing his eyes, he peered a bit harder at the man. He could have sworn he’d seen him before, but where?

“Mr. Haddock, a pleasure to see you here.” Butter wouldn’t has melted in his mouth for all he was worth, jaw silently working under his skin. The brunet didn’t seem to notice or mind, but smiled at him and Jack.

“My father wanted me to tell you- if I saw you- that he would like to talk to you before the private party starts. Something about stocks, he implied.” He glanced apologetically at the two before fidgeting with his tie.

Jack moved in front on Pitch, smiling brightly and offering his hand.

“We’ll be sure to get there, then.” He grinned, moving closer to the younger man and winking at him. “It’s always nice to meet someone Pitch works with. You should come over for dinner sometime!” Jack simpers, trademark smile oozing a false familiarity.

To this, the brunet looked stunned for a moment before flushing and pulling away.

“You must be Finnish boy everyone’s talking about.” He mutters under his breath, looking over Jack’s shoulder at the oldest of the three. Green eyes seemed to harden for a second, fine lines spreading out on his forehead.

“Frosty? I have to ask, like ‘Frosty the Snowman’?”  

Jack laughs easily, voice low and filled with warmth, placing his other hand over Mr. Haddock’s. He squeezes for a second before letting go, body turning to Pitch while his he continues to speak.

“Exactly like that, Mr. Haddock. Will I see you later this evening?”

But before his question is answered Pitch wraps a lanky arm around Jack’s and steers him further into the hallway. Jack waves behind him still smiling.

Pitch’s grip is still constricting but this time Jack doesn’t mind so much. He looks up at his client before smirking. His client looks absolutely furious and frustrated, the former no surprise but the latter a bit interesting to him. Things not working out the way he had wanted them to?

“He’s awfully too much of a cutie-patoodie to be alone, you think?” Jack has to make the jab, lower lip jutted out and _whoops he may have gone too far on that one_

Pitch stops moving altogether and places a hand next to Jack’s head on the wall, moving closer to his escort until Jack’s back is flush against the wall. Jack can hear the faint buzzing of the hotel lights in the thick silence as he’s glared at with molten eyes.

“And what was that?” Pitch’s voice is oil, slick and darker than tar. “Flirting with the Haddock boy? Do you have any idea who his father is?”

Jack shrugs a shoulder and flattens out an imaginary crease in his jacket. “I do, actually. I do my homework. The older Haddock is a weapons manufacturer, the younger I saw is more of a greenhorn inventor, specializes in prosthetics. Had a showing at the fashion show at the local college last week, avant-garde below-the-knee replacements. Excellent design, if I may-“

“Aren’t you just the know-it-all.” Pitch murmurs, other hand hovering above Jack’s face. Blue eyes widened a fraction, then as far as they could go when Pitch’s face slowly moved closer to his. Both of them kept their eyes open as they searched the other’s face, looking for refusal or acceptance or maybe, maybe even desire.

Jack turned his eyes away, squeezing a hand between their bodies.

“You could force me to kiss you, you know. You bought my services for the night. It’s not uncommon for clients to try and kiss us.”

Pitch pulled back completely, also looking away. Expression unreadable and eyes hooded, he turned away, tightening his tie before offering his arm.

“I may be an asshole, but forcing myself on another would  be a primitive and disgusting.” He supplied simply. Hesitantly and cautiously, Jack slowly put his hand on offered arm. He squeezed gently, feeling the muscle work underneath the cloth.

They continue walking down the hallway, both looking straight ahead at the end of the hallway. There are only a few rooms on this floor, but as they pass the others they can hear nothing from them.

“Time to meet the city’s most influential people, Jack.


End file.
